


Answers in the Blood

by ohprettyweeper



Series: The Last Bandito [4]
Category: Trench - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohprettyweeper/pseuds/ohprettyweeper
Summary: Quinn might have found an answer to her problems, Faylinn receives warning from someone else about her novel, and Tyler finds that his new life is not all he expected.





	Answers in the Blood

“Tonight, we begin a new chapter,” Quinn announced to her class. “Irish Mythology. Turn in your books to page two-hundred and twenty-seven.”

She lectured first on banshees, then selkies. Leprechauns, of course, were in the mix, and changelings. Finally, after giving her class and herself a short break, Quinn began the section on the dearg-due. 

“This creature dates back to the Celtic era,” she informed them, hitting the clicker to switch to the slide which held information for notes and also a couple of images for the students to review. “A vampire-like creature, the dearg-due may have found its beginning in a young woman with blood-red lips and white-blonde hair. Forced into a marriage that would benefit her father with many riches and separated her from her true love, the girl took the only way out from her abusive husband: suicide.”

Quinn clicked the slide again, revealing the painting of a young girl, blood flowing from her wrists and her eyes staring at nothing. Her body was emaciated and her cheeks gaunt.

“Her husband would bleed her for no reason other than to see the blood flow. So, she starved herself. After her death, she was buried at Waterford, near Strongbow’s Tree. Though she had been kind and godly in her life, it was said that her husband’s abuse and her own suicide changed her in the afterlife. Heartbroken and vengeful, on the first night she was buried, she rose from the grave and sought to quench her thirst with the blood of young men, children, and the innocent. She calms her victims first with a siren song, and then steals their blood, leaving them mysteriously ill or dead.”

As the lecture wrapped up, Quinn opened the floor for questions. Most of them pertained to the traditionally known creatures, but one student asked as to the origin of the dearg-due. 

“Is it possible these creatures were actually the origination of the Heathens?”

Quinn cleared her throat. “I can see where you might make that connection, but remember, the vampire experiments of Old Dema began in response to the Banditos growing in numbers. I suppose it’s possible that this knowledge is available in Old Dema and was an inspiration for the Bishops and their experiments, but I can’t say that I’ve come across the connection any other time. If there’s no other questions, class is dismissed. Please do remember, your papers over chapters ten through twelve will be next week. Email me or come by my office if you have questions.”

She gathered her things and went back to her office to spend the rest of the afternoon grading. By the time she could head home, however, the stack of homework to be reviewed was not much smaller than when she had begun a couple of hours before. Her student’s question regarding the dearg-due lingered in her thoughts, though not because she had not thought of a connection between the Heathens and the dearg-due before. Instead, she wondered if perhaps the Bishops and their vampire experiments were the answer to her dilemma. 

* * *

One of her favorite songs hummed in her throat while Faylinn cooked eggs for breakfast. She was looking forward to an easy day at work, then coming home to continuing her novel. Much to Ildri’s chagrin, Faylinn had not stopped writing the plotline surrounding Old Dema. 

Not to mention, her dreams had not subsided. Though frightening more often than not, they fueled her muse and her imagination and chapters were pouring out of her. Before too long, the novel would be finished. 

Someone knocked on the door; Faylinn looked towards Ildri’s part of the apartment. All the lights were off, and Faylinn could see that the bed was already made. Sighing, she turned down the heat on the eggs and made way for the door. Her breath caught in her throat when the man who was often in her dreams stared back at her. His red eyes were frantic, and his yellow hair was in disarray. 

“What are you doing here?” Faylinn whispered. 

“You have to stop the novel,” he pleaded. “The Bishops know. They know everything. **Distance doesn’t matter. They’ll come for you.** ”

Horse hooves sounded in the distance like thunder rumbling in a far off storm. Faylinn’s eyes slowly focused in that direction; somehow, she could already see all nine Bishops riding her way. 

“They’re coming for both of us,” he told her. 

“We have to run,” Faylinn said, pushing her feet into her shoes. 

The man shook his head. “No. You just have to stop.”

Thunder clapped loud overhead, pulling Faylinn from her most recent dream. How was it possible that the thing that had been driving her for so many weeks now was the thing that made her understand the danger of what she was doing?

“Maybe I need to see a shrink,” she muttered, pushing out of the bed and motivating toward the shower to start her day. 

But the dream stuck with her throughout her entire morning routine. By the time she was through with her eggs and her coffee, she had made the last minute decision to skip work for the day and make use of the best resource she had regarding Old Dema. 

* * *

Tyler finished his work and walked with Josh back to the Heathen district. Others — humans — took their time getting back, but Nico held no leniency in regards to his citizens returning home when their work was completed. 

“It’s been weeks,” Josh said, nudging Tyler. “You’re going to have to accept that there’s no going back.”

Tyler nodded. “I know that. But, it doesn’t stop me from wondering what’s beyond the wall. Being this doesn’t stop me from wondering what life is like in the surrounding city.”

“They call it New Dema. Sometimes, if you’re mindful, the Bishops will send you into New Dema to capture someone and bring them here to be smeared and, possibly, eventually, changed.”

“How do you know all this?”

Josh took a deep breath. “They tell you, when they know they can trust you. If you want that chance, you cannot miss any mark. You cannot question them out loud, you cannot deny their authority.”

Tyler thought that over for the rest of the walk back to his dwelling. If he played the Bishops’ game, how long would it be until he was trusted to go into New Dema? What would the task of capturing people to come here entail? Tyler had long believed that nothing good could come of new souls coming here, but he had known nothing but Old Dema for his entire life. Therein lie the problem; he could not imagine knowing something else, then coming here and being confined to the Bishops’ world. 

Being changed was supposed to heighten his loyalty to the Bishops, but instead, Tyler found himself questioning the old figures more than ever. 

* * *

When all of Dema’s inhabitants had been locked in their dwellings for the night, Keons met Nico in the sanctuary of the temple. The head Bishop waited at the altar, facing the large statue. Keons entered from the back, walking reverently toward the head Bishop. 

“You have information you’ve kept from me for too long,” Nico said, turning toward Keons, his hands clasped behind his back. 

Keons stood a little straighter. “ _Probach meni, bud’ laska._ It was you who taught me, Nico, that knowledge is power. I was not entirely certain the information I obtained was correct —”

“Enough stalling, Keons,” Nico warned in a measured tone. He leaned forward on the stone block used for changing humans to Heathens. “Tell me what you know.”

Keons took another three steps forward. His hands balled to fists at his sides, but he stood fast in his resolve to share the information with Nico. 

“She has surfaced — the last Bandito child. She’s a woman now, of course, but I have no doubt that it’s her.”

Nico smirked. “You shouldn’t have any doubt. You are the one who let the child escape our grasp.”

Keons took a deep breath, fighting now to maintain his confidence. He had intended, those decades ago, for the knowledge of the child’s life and location to bring him into power within the walls of Old Dema; Nico was too smart for Keons. Too ruthless. He had sensed the plot from the very beginning, and had cut Keons off at the pass by informing the other Bishops the child was still alive but would be allowed to live. Anything else would undermine the authority of the Bishops. 

“When I rode out several weeks ago to retrieve an escaped vampire, I found that woman dead. Her neck was snapped and her body was there, lifeless, in Trench. The scent of the Bandito child was heavy in the air, and though I could not pinpoint her location, I knew she was near. Then, after the last soul was captured and brought into our walls before disappearing, I smelled her scent in that man’s assigned room.”

“But the room was empty,” Nico surmised. He stepped around the cement block, stopping inches in front of Keons. “She is following in the footsteps of her ancestors, and the Heathen in her aids every mission she accepts. You must find her, and bring her here. Send the new Heathen.”

“You mean …?”

Nico’s smirk rolled into a satisfied grin. “Yes. That one. I want her back here. She holds all the answers, Keons, and if we are to take down New Dema — we need answers.”

Keons bowed gracefully. “ _Yak vy komanduyete.”_


End file.
